Suede to Rest (24 page)

“That could have killed me!”

“Would have saved me the effort.”

“You're crazy, Ken. You aren't going to get away with any of this. The police are on their way.”

I shuffled to the left, inches at a time. I had to get past him and out the door. The door was open and if I could get out of the back room, I could get to the back door, to the alley or the street. To a place where someone could hear me scream.

My eyes darted behind him, looking for something to fight him off. I was no match for him without a weapon. The wall of ribbon was too far. The bins of snaps and trim would do no damage. The scissors were in the wrap stand out front. It was me and Ken and a wall full of fabric.

He moved quickly. His gloved hands gripped the side of the bin and he peered into the corner. I spun around and grabbed the closest roll of fabric and swung it like a caveman clubbing a wildebeest. It struck Ken on the back. He bent forward over the bin. I watched his broad shoulders rise and fall.

I didn't give him a chance to gain his wits or breath. I swung the tube of fabric low at the back of his knees. His legs bent and he dropped, hitting his chin on the edge of the wooden fixture as he fell. He cursed. I ran past him to the door. His hand reached out and grabbed a fistful of my sweatshirt. My stockinged feet gained no traction against the exposed concrete floor and I propelled forward, my feet shooting out behind me. I landed on the ground. Ken yanked my sweatshirt backward. I fumbled for the zipper pull. When I found it, I unzipped the sweatshirt and threw my shoulders back. The sweatshirt stayed behind in Ken's grip. I raced out the door and slammed it shut, threading the padlock through the hinge with shaking fingers. Seconds later I stumbled out the back. I made it to the end of the alley before my legs gave out from under me and I collapsed onto the gravel.

I opened my
eyes and tensed. My head was in Vaughn's lap. His hand stroked my forehead. I tried to sit up.

“Don't move. It's okay. Deputy Sheriff Clark is on his way.”

“But he doesn't know—”

“I called him when I found you.”

“Where?”

“Right where you are.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Charlie was waiting for me when I got home. She was pretty shaken up. I stayed with her until she calmed down. Truth is, I was mad at you for telling her you knew when I asked you not to.”

“You came back to pick a fight with me?”

“Yes.” A breeze ruffled Vaughn's hair. He shivered in his white crew-neck T-shirt. I tipped my chin and saw his navy-blue peacoat draped over me. I closed my eyes. It hadn't been a dream. It had been real. I'd gotten away. But that meant that Ken hadn't. I didn't know how much time he had in that sealed room, but I knew it wouldn't be forever. I looked back at Vaughn.

“We have to get into the fabric store.”

“I don't think it's a good idea for you to move.”

“I'm fine.”

“No, you're not.”

I turned away from him and stuck my hand out onto the ground for leverage. Blood spidered over my thumb and palm. My arm was bare. I picked up his coat and peeked underneath at my black bra. Without thinking, I glanced at Vaughn.

“At least you're consistent,” he said with a smile.

Sirens blared from the street. Two police cars turned into the parking lot behind the store, followed by an ambulance. Deputy Sheriff Clark slammed the door to his car and approached me. This time when I tried to stand up, Vaughn helped. I fed my arms through the sleeves of his coat and buttoned enough of the navy-blue anchor buttons to keep the coat from opening.

“Ms. Monroe, what's this all about?” Clark asked.

“He's in the store.”

“Who?”

“Ken. Ken Watts.”

I felt the heat of Vaughn's stare against the side of my face, but I didn't have time to answer his questions now. “He's locked in the back room. The keys are on the corner of the wrap stand. You have to hurry.”

Clark didn't wait for an explanation. He instructed one officer to wait outside with me while he and another officer entered the store. I heard the keys jangle against each other. I heard the pop of the lock opening. And then I heard nothing.

I pulled away from Vaughn and went inside. For the second time that day I threw the breaker, flooding the store in light. Beyond the wrap stand, two officers stood by the door to the partition. I approached them. “Is he alive?” I asked the officer closer to me.

He looked startled at the sound of my voice. “Who let you back here?”

“This is my store. I'm the one—” I looked around the door frame, into the room. Ken's body was on a stretcher. Blood stained the front of his shirt. His nose must have broken when he hit his face on the side of the wooden bin of fabric, right after I swung the bolt of fabric against the back of his knees. My sweatshirt was still clutched in his fist.

Deputy Sheriff Clark directed the men to take Ken to the ambulance. His eyes connected with mine as he passed. “I didn't expect you to put up a fight, either,” he said.

Sheriff Clark stood next to the wooden fixture. His head was tipped back, his stare affixed on the window frame. “I'm going to need a statement about what happened here, Ms. Monroe.”

“I know.” I looked around at the room. The bolts of fabric that had lined the wall had fallen down like dominoes. I picked up the tube of cotton that I'd used to defend myself against Ken. The thin white ribbons tied around the ends had come loose and the fabric had unraveled. I stepped backward, away from the wooden fixture, carrying it underhanded. My ankle twisted and I fell backward. I landed on my tush. The cotton landed by my legs and unrolled across the floor. It hit one of Vaughn's white Stan Smiths.

I told Deputy Sheriff Clark what had happened: Ken trapping me in the back portion of the store and threatening to kill me. I told him about Ken's confession to the murder of Mr. Pickers. I told him how Ken had left our high school graduation, murdered my aunt, and returned with his football uniform under his graduation gown—the silhouette that had caused Mr. Pickers to think he saw a monster. I suspected more details would come to me in time but already I felt my mind pushing them away, not wanting to face the truths I'd learned in the past hour.

“Ms. Monroe, do you have plans to leave San Ladrón before tomorrow?”

“No.”

“I'd like to advise you to stay someplace else tonight.”

“Stay at the Waverly House. I'll arrange it. It's the least I can do,” Vaughn said.

“But—”

“I insist.”

“Fine.”

“I'll be in touch, Ms. Monroe,” the deputy sheriff said to me, and left.

*   *   *

Vaughn waited behind
the fabric store while I went upstairs to put on a shirt and pack an overnight bag. His peacoat was warm and smelled like pine needles, and if I'd been alone I might have kept it on all night. Instead I found a black velvet smoking jacket in a garment bag in the back of Uncle Marius's closet. I rolled up the sleeves until they fell just above my wrists and double-wrapped the belt to keep the jacket closed. I pushed my black nightgown into my messenger bag, along with a few cans of cat food and the bowls from the drugstore. I scooped Pins and Needles into the cardboard box, draped Vaughn's peacoat over the top, and lifted the box. Before I went downstairs, I spotted the champagne-colored satin dress hanging in the closet. I folded it down to the size of a dinner napkin, wrapped it in the tissue from the box, and slid it into my bag next to tomorrow's underwear.

Vaughn pulled his peacoat on and looked into the box. “How are they?”

“They're good. I think they finally know they're safe.”

He reached a hand inside and scratched Pins's head. The kitten swiped a dark gray paw at Vaughn's hand. Vaughn caught it and rubbed it gently between his thumb and index finger, until the kitten pulled his paw away and licked it clean.

Vaughn took the box from me. We walked to the Waverly House side by side. The silence between us was comfortable. I didn't fill it with words or explanations or apologies or blame and neither did he.

When we reached the Waverly House, he tapped on the front door and turned to me while we waited for someone to let us in. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked. “I can stay for a while if you want.” he said softly.

I turned to him. “I'm going to be okay. I think maybe you should find Charlie and tell her what happened. She could use a family, too.”

I looked past him, over the shrubbery separating us from the alley that ran to the back door to the fabric store, then back at Vaughn. There was more that I wanted to say, but I wasn't sure where to start. We said good night and I went inside.

*   *   *

It took an
extra day for Charlie to finish up the repairs on my car, and I used that extra day to start getting used to the idea that my high school friend Ken had been charged with the murder of my aunt ten years ago and the recent murder of Mr. Pickers. It would take time to fully accept what it all meant, for both me and for the residents of San Ladrón.

Having closure on the subject of my great-aunt's murder meant something else to me. It meant I had a choice. Unresolved issues had been resolved. Questions had been answered. I could sell the fabric store to Mr. McMichael and move back to Los Angeles. He wasn't the villain I'd wanted him to be, and his offer on the property was both sound and generous. If he sold the property to a developer, new jobs would come to San Ladrón.

I could call Carson, apologize, and ask him to help me navigate the deal, and maybe even use the money to invest in a shop of my own like he'd suggested.

But behind door number two was the unknown: reopen the store that I'd inherited. It would take a lot of time and energy sorting through what remained of the inventory, and I probably wouldn't be ready to reopen it for months, but it would be mine. I'd have to write a business plan, apply for a line of credit, start developing contacts in the fabric world so I could stock new inventory, and get the word out that the fabric store was going to reopen. I'd also have to move to San Ladrón.

It was the easiest decision I'd ever made.

After getting my car back from Charlie, who demonstrated her soft side by comping the cost of repairs, I drove back to Los Angeles. In the weeks that followed, I broke up with Carson over Wednesday-morning waffles and moved all of my belongings from our apartment in Los Angeles to a storage locker on the outskirts of the city, with the exception of a two suitcases: one filled with my black everyday wardrobe, the other filled with the vintage thirties dresses I'd been keeping at the back of my closet. I collected payment for unused vacation time from Giovanni and moved into the apartment above the fabric store. I even made an appointment with Mr. McMichael to clear the air and ask him to look over my business plan. The cloud of suspicion that had hung over him for a decade was now lifted, and I could see that he'd only acted as a friend to my aunt Millie and uncle Marius. I hoped, with everything that had happened, he'd understand the way I felt about wanting to reopen the fabric store and not stand in my way.

Two weeks after moving to San Ladrón, I arranged to meet Vaughn at Tea Totalers. He was dressed in a suit and tie. He traded Genevieve a credit card for a red plaid thermos and a bag of carefully wrapped sandwiches.

“Stocking up for the week?” I asked.

“It's time for me to head home.”

“You don't live here?”

“I rent a furnished apartment by the office. It works for me.”

“Oh. I thought—I guess it doesn't matter what I thought.”

“Lately I've been thinking about investing in something more permanent. I'm not sure what changed.”

I tucked my chin to hide my smile and pulled a chair out from under a table. “Do you have a couple of minutes to talk?”

“Sure.” He dropped into the chair opposite me.

“The night you brought dinner to the fabric store you said you wanted answers. Were your questions about your father?”

“Yes.” He looked away, then down at his thermos, and then at my face. “I knew what people said about my father. I knew the only way the rumors would stop was if somebody found out once and for all what happened that night. I didn't think I'd ever know the truth. But then you showed up and you wanted to know what happened, too. I thought we could work together.”

“I'm sorry about how I've treated you since I came to San Ladrón. I gave you a hard time.”

“Yes, you did.” He smiled. “What about you? You came here with questions, too. Did you find what you were looking for?”

I thought about why I'd come to San Ladrón: to inherit the family fabric store. I thought about the questions about my family that had kept me there and about the answers I'd found. In a matter of days I'd found a world I hadn't known existed and a collection of people I didn't want to leave behind.

I wanted to know what Genevieve would say when I showed her the fabric renovation I'd been working on for her tea shop.

I wanted to help Charlie discover the truth about her childhood.

I wanted to find a way to thank the Lopez family for their act of generosity.

And I wanted to reopen the store and make a life for myself in the town of San Ladrón.

“I didn't find all the answers I was looking for,” I said, “but what I found is a pretty good start.”

Beginner/Intermediate Sewing Level
Will Take About an Hour

½ yard white velvet

½ yard white watered silk or taffeta

1 white marabou or ostrich feather boa (at least 50 inches long)

1 12x12 pillow form

1 vintage or vintage-looking brooch

Sewing machine

White thread

Needle (for hand stitching + basting)

White 12-inch zipper

Cut a 14x14-inch square out of the white velvet.

Cut a 14x14-inch square of the silk.

Place right sides together, and pin along one side.

Baste pinned side.

Pin closed zipper face down over basting stitches on wrong side.

Sew zipper in place.

Remove basting stitches.

Open zipper.

Measure 50 inches of the boa and cut.

Pin the boa around the edge of the RIGHT SIDE of the velvet, leaving a ¾-inch allowance at fabric edge. (HINT: Pin from the underside of the fabric. Space pins 1½ to 2 inches apart.)

Baste the boa into place. (HINT: Baste from the underside. Use your pins as a guide.)

Remove pins.

Pin the right sides of the fabric together, leaving a ½-inch seam allowance. (Tuck the boa feathers inside the fabric squares with your fingers as you go.)

Sew three sides of the square using the sewing machine.

Flip inside out along the side with the open zipper.

Stuff the pillow form into the pillow.

Zip shut.

Attach the pin/brooch to the center of the white velvet.

Nestle pillow on your bed by your sleeping pillows and enjoy a touch of glamour!